


Lady's Maid

by NancyBrown



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Interspecies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-08
Updated: 2011-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:05:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NancyBrown/pseuds/NancyBrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles and short fics about Madame Vastra and her trusty companion Jenny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Swordpoint

**Author's Note:**

> Because they are cute as pie, that's why.

Jenny's knives can protect her from any man who tries to take her few possessions or her virtue. Time are hard, her family is gone, and she must find work. She'll gladly go into service if only she can secure a position.

She's followed one night, her footsteps dogged until she's trapped. Her knives will fend off one man, not five at once. Her sudden saviour in the alley hides her face but not her sword, and dispatches the other four.

The hood slips, showing emerald green.

Jenny doesn't run. "Can you teach me how to do that?"

Vastra smiles.


	2. Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no shame in service.

There's no shame in service, her mother taught her. Jenny has heard the chilling tales: cruel and vain mistresses, masters demanding their servants' bodies. She has great pity for the girls who find themselves in such households. It could have been her.

She readies Madame Vastra's bath, to wash her mistress clean of tonight's bloody work. She knows many would recoil from the rusting crimson on green scales, would pity _her_. They understand nothing.

Jenny helps scrub the difficult places on Vastra's back, then settles in to join her in the water, embracing her tired lady.

Service has its joys.


	3. Misapprehension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Porn Battle XII. Prompts: swords, tongue, green, scales, taste

Jenny thought swords were used for men to surround and bully and take, thought Vastra would leverage her power at the tip of a blade.

Jenny thought the scales would be slimy, would cause shivers of revulsion to consume her the first time Vastra drew her hand down the soft skin of Jenny's back.

Jenny thought "green" was the colour meat turned when it rotted and she had to choke it down anyway if she intended to survive, thought Vastra would taste of defilement and spoilage.

Jenny thought her best prospect would be as some man's possession, subject to his whims even as she closed her eyes against his gross needs.

The swords buy them peace, and freedom, and protection. Jenny's arms and legs ache each night after her daily work and her hours of training. She is no longer afraid of the steel, though there's a resigned sigh when she knows it will be time to practise thrusts and parries.

The scales are dry and smooth, sliding under Jenny's hand like rough silk. Vastra writhes when Jenny massages her belly, and her scaly hands are as tender as a baby's, holding Jenny's face.

The green skin under Jenny's kisses tastes of smoke from the oil lamps, tastes of leather from Madame's breeches, undulates like the green sea Jenny spied once from a distance. The flavour of the sweat between Vastra's breasts is sealike, salty, and the moist, hidden place between Vastra's thighs reminds her of green apples, tartsweet and juicy on her lips. Jenny drinks her like cider, worships her like the ocean. Her turn will come to lie spread while Vastra's long tongue undoes her slowly. She belongs to her mistress, heart and soul, and is joyful in the surrender.

Jenny doesn't mind being wrong, not when this feels so right.


End file.
